Charge of the Treadheads
by Ronin201
Summary: While men like Cipher battle for the air over Ustio and Belka, men and women on the ground fight to take and hold land. Among these are the soldiers of the Osean 12th Infantry Division, the spreadhead into Belka's southern lands. Armored warfare Oneshot with OCs. All respective owners retain their respective rights.


**_A/N: School's been really busy lately (only a few weeks til I transfer and I have five papers to do, so my writing efforts have to be geared more towards serious stuff) and I'm on the hunt for a job, so I haven't been able to make big strides on my regular stuff. But I decided to spend today cranking this out. Before I became an aviation nut I loved armored warfare, and when your dad did a number of years as a crewman on an M1 Abrams (and introduces you to Harold Coyle's books) you learn several things :P Anyways my structuring of the division is a bit more towards modern times (cause an organizational table of a U.S. infantry division, which I use for Osean forces, is probably not easy to find) but I like to pride myself in making sure the tactics and procedures used by the men are accurate. Also, "Treadheads" is a nickname given to tankers by others (just like infantry are "Straight-Legs" and support troops "REMFs")._**

_Charge of the Treadheads_

_May 17, 1995_

_Just south of the Schayne Plains, Belka_

"Excuse me, El-tee, er, sir?"

1st Lt. Kristopher Harkley slowly opened his eyes at the voice and turned his head to the left. Private First Class Jeremy Foxx stood just a foot away and a few inches below the back edge of the M1A1 Abrams Main Battle Tank. Once the officer was conscious, the young man rendered a snappy salute. Kristopher, still half-awake, returned it.

"El-tee is fine, Private. What is it?" He asked.

"The Captain sent over a HUMVEE, says the morning briefing is gonna happen soon over breakfast." He reported. Harkley slid his arm out of the sleeping bag and checked his watch.

"So it is." He observed to himself.

The armor officer slid out of the bag, rolled it up and tossed it into one of the carrying cages on the turret. He got down and looked at the young enlisted man.

"Do I have time to run the razor across my face real quick, Private?" He asked, rubbing his beard.

"I don't think so, sir. The HUMVEE driver was saying to get you right quick." Foxx replied. Kristopher nodded.

"Very well, guess Captain LaBelle will have to see me with a bit of a stubble." He observed.

The man retrieved his flak vest, Kevlar "Fritz Hat", and his holstered service .45 before following the Private to a waiting M1038A1 with a canvas over the back bed. He slid on the garments as he walked and sat down in the front passenger's seat.

"Private, tell the Platoon Sergeant I'll be back soon and to get everyone awake, fed, and ready." He added as a last minute thought. Foxx nodded and they exchanged salutes before the driver sped off towards the rear of the company's current position.

Kristopher itched the side of his nearly-shaven head and flecked some dead skin towards his feet as the truck buckled along. He noticed the countryside was disturbingly quiet as they passed by a few rearward positions, and that there were no M88s pulling back knocked out machines. He looked at his driver, a young man with olive skin.

"Sergeant, any reason I'm not hearing the Belkans shelling us?" he asked, looking around again.

"Well sir, I did see some Apaches from the aviation brigade earlier this morning. They might've gotten em." He suggested.

"Huh, God bless the Rotorheads then." Kristopher mused.

The Company HQ was located near some tall bushes about a mile from the position of Kristopher's tanks. The sergeant pulled past the gaggle of HUMVEEs and M577s that made up the heart of the little post and stopped before a small tent. Kristopher thanked the man and got out. A soldier guarding the entrance to the tent let him inside, where the other platoon commanders of the unit were all gathered around a table made by a big slab of wood and some boxes. Kristopher took a seat next to a fellow M1 crewman, 1Lt. Seth Uller.

"Morning Kris, how're you?"

"I was having a wonderful wet dream when the war decided to come knocking again." He quipped.

"The stubble proves that." Seth chuckled.

The breakfast that morning wasn't as good as most of the officer's had expected: instant eggs and coffee with a side of Spam. They were allowed to get a few bites in before their superior entered. The blonde and stocky Captain Norman LaBelle was the commander of Delta Company, 2nd Armored Battalion, 1st Brigade of the Osean 12th Infantry Division. He was a good CO, a bit of a stiff but he at least had some experience. Everyone came to attention and rendered him a salute, which he returned and requested the men to be seated.

"Good morning everyone, hope you've gotten some good rest because today marks a pretty big day for us." He began in his uncharacteristically young-sounding voice.

The man walked up to a map of the current positions of the battalion and Belkan Army units whose positions were known. At the far end was the Ottermeyer River, and before it were only a few scattered farming settlements. The Belkan symbol revealed what the unit would be facing today.

"Okay everyone, today it's the usual job of "Go this far, dig a hole, and then wait". We've been tasked to press further towards the second part of the Hydra Line in preparation to secure a major highway as well as several Belkan bases in the area in the wake of air strikes by allied forces while they deal with . Before that, we're to break through their major positions on the ground…" He began as he got out a pointer. Glatisant was a large fortress in the more mountainous terrain, and thus the ground-based spearhead from the south had flanked around it to reach the plains.

"…We've confirmed a combined forced of armor and infantry from the 33rd Panzer Division and 41st Panzergrenadiers, along with supporting AAA and artillery, though I've been informed that Apaches from the Aviation Brigade as well as SEAD aircraft have been knocking most of them out while we'll come in and sweep out the tanks and APCs alongside our supporting Bradleys. One of the companies will halt its advance at this small road junction within the town of Elenmach, at which point 2nd Platoon will close the gap between them and 3rd Platoon until we reach this part of the AO near the river, where we'll hold up and secure two bridges with the help of our infantry." He went on. 1Lt. Erika Foster raised a hand.

"Sir, can we expect any enemy air?" the Bradley Platoon leader asked. Everyone had been wary about the BAF and its favorite strikers, the Mirage 2000D and the Alpha Jet, whether or not they came during every battle. The bigger threat was the Mi-35 Hind, something that was a nightmare to Kristopher.

"I've been assured that the Allies are almost done establishing a firm sense of air superiority over the local area. Just in case there will be Allied aircraft providing cover. Intel suggests that the Belkans may have Hinds in the area, but we'll be given the standard FAC support, call sign "Foxtrot 5-1" to vector in fast air on any threats. It'll be in the form of an OH-58 from the Aviation Brigade." He assured.

Kristopher gulped a little at the confirmation of Hinds, but tried to sedate that with the idea of close air support. Especially if they got A-10s, the quintessential close support jet. He raised his own hand.

"Do we have any info on whether or not the Leos they have are the A4 standard? Or are they A3s?" He asked.

"We believe, since these are parts of the units that invaded Ustio, there will be a mix due to casualties before this point." The CO mused, though he didn't seem to know himself. He quickly got back on track.

"You'll receive your order to cross the LOD after artillery softens up the area. Go sign is "Dynamo", in accordance with the name of this operation." The captain concluded as he sat down.

"Any final questions can be asked while we eat our breakfast. Also, if you have anything to say, now's the time." He said in a much less official tone. The man then cracked a smile.

"I've also been told that the kind, troop-supporting folks at Smiley's Baked Goods have arranged for us to receive a large shipment of their finest products to show their support. Tell your troops that if they get this done, they should have some hot donuts waiting for them." He added…

Kristopher pulled off his Frtiz Hat as he walked towards his tank, nicknamed "Heavy Honey", and clambered up the rear on the woodland-camouflaged machine. PFC Sandy Curtis, the loader, was making sure his M240 was locked in place for the advance.

"Good morning El-Tee." He said respectfully.

"Morning Curtis." The officer replied as he pulled open the hatch on his cupola.

Kristopher slid down into the turret towards his Combat Vehicle Crewman helmet (CVC) that sat below his seat. Just forward of him the gunner, Corporal Hue Jonesy was still trying to finish an MRE.

"I swear Jonesy, you get all gassy on us and I'll have Curtis play gunner for a day." The tank commander joked. He turned his head, half a chunk of turkey still protruding from his mouth.

"Eww dons haffua wirri, Bell-C!" He said.

"Didn't your momma ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" Sandy retorted as he settled into his seat.

"Didn't you ever learn not to listen all the time?" the smart-assy native of Oured replied. The redheaded lieutenant chuckled and secured his helmet and turned on the boom mike to the internal comms.

"Hey Saburo, you awake?" he said over the intercom. There was a minute before a few confused grunts were replaced by words.

"I am now sir, we moving out?" the Shimoji-Osean driver said.

"Soon, we'll wait until arty's softened up things. Crank her up when the shells start flying, I'll be up top until that starts." He said. The Private grunted in understanding as he continued to awaken.

The officer popped his upper torso out of the turret and rested his hand near his M2 machine gun. He raised his binoculars to his eyes and tried to see if he could spot any Belkan positions, or really anything interesting. But all he saw was green countryside, bathed in grayish mid-morning light, with a few fences here and there. It was barren, dead, devoid of any cows or farmers that might've inhabited the pastures. But at least the terrain was better here.

When the 12th had first been brought in via C-5, the terrain was much more mountainous in spots, forcing the M1s to be careful how far they could go from the road before things got too steep. Definitely country more suited to infantry or airmobile forces. Here the terrain was meant for armored warfare. It was much like the grounds at Fort Kehoe (theunit's home) or the Armored Training Center at Fort Seblanc, out in the deserts of Eastern Osea, near Oured Bay. The M1 could speed along this kind of ground, unhindered by obstacles beyond what it could take. It was almost like it'd been built just for this battle. The line alternated between M2 platoon and M1 platoon to provide the best combination of arms that could be done.

At that time a loud whistle broke his concentration. He looked up as more sounds flew overhead, shells from M109 Paladins he deduced. It was the initial signal.

"All Delta 3 victors, this is Delta 3-1, crank up and standby to cross LOD." He ordered. His Platoon Sergeant, Sergeant First Class Samuel Moors, was the first to speak up.

"Delta 3-2 roger."

"Delta 3-3, roger."

"Delta 3-4, roger."

Behind him, Kristopher heard his tank's own engine rev to life. He lowered himself before his station and all its gadgets and switched to the proper frequency for communicating with the other units relevant to him. The artillery kept up for about ten minutes until the call rang out.

"All victors, this is Bigfoot 6, Dynamo. I repeat, Dynamo."

"Delta 3-1 to all Delta victors, advance in right flank respective to me." Kristopher said. The tank commanders sounded off again; Kristopher switched back to internal comms.

"Driver, move forward." He instructed.

"Yes sir." Saburo replied.

The 67.6-ton MBT lurched out of its defensive position and quickly got moving along the plains. The lieutenant climbed up a bit and made sure the other three tanks in his platoon were with him. Sure enough, four other M1A1s were pressing along in a right flank, him as the leader. He sat back down and made sure the hatch was secure still, just for good measure.

"Delta 1-1 to all Delta victors, report." Captain LaBelle requested.

"Delta 2-1 is advancing steadily, no problems." Seth radioed.

"Delta 1, this is Delta 3-1, we are rolling along as ordered, no contact yet." The Lieutenant spoke up.

"Delta 4-1 here, also moving smoothly." 1Lt. Jason Dartmouth chimed in.

Curtis had just finished loading a Sabot round in anticipation as his call of 'up" told. Kristopher's eyes searched for any contacts. The radio piped up again.

"All Delta and Charlie victors, this is Foxtrot 5-1, we've glasses tangos to your front. Looks like about twenty Leo 2s with supporting M113s and infantry." One of the men aboard an OH-58D Kiowa reported after the tanks had moved for about seven miles.

"Understood 5-1, all Delta victors engage at will!" the captain ordered.

"All Charlie Victors engage at will." The company CO for the M2s added in immediate subsequence.

"All Delta 3 victors, bring it into line formation." Kristopher updated.

The other tanks sped up and went parallel with their leader. Across the way he saw a small slope that lead to a country road. Cresting it was a dark green shape, a Belkan Leopard 2A3 from what he initially guessed.

"Gunner identify: Leo 2 at two o' clock!" Jonesy barked as he turned the turret towards the threat.

"Roger, Sabot ready." Curtis assured.

"Gunner, fire!" the lieutenant barked.

"On the way!" Jonesy howled.

The M1 rocked as its gun propelled the armor-piercing round towards the Belkan AFV as it fully came into view. The round struck near the gun's mantle.

"Load Sabot!" Kristopher ordered, watching as more shapes began to come into view. The loader worked as fast as he'd been trained to.

"Up!" He cried as a new shell was firmly in the 120mm gun's chamber.

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

The second round hit, and sealed the Leopard 2's fate.

"Good hits! Scratch one Leo 2!" Jonesy whooped.

From the outside, violent rumbles sounded just next to and behind the M1. The gunner started searching for the next target while Kristopher heard his troops calling out their own shots. These Belkans were almost nothing compared to the guys back in March…

"Gunner identify: another Leo 2 at 12 o' clock!"

Kristopher stared down the machine's barrel as the crew swung into action again. Its barrel flashed and a particularly nasty rumble erupted just behind the tank. Jonesy responded with a "Fuck you!" and another Sabot round.

With kill number two secured, Kristopher got on the radio and requested the status of his tanks. Delta 3-4's report was the only one that put a lump in his throat when they reported they'd been hit. But the lump disappeared when it was revealed the M1 had only been disabled and its crew wounded.

"Roger that 3-4, we'll get an 88 to you as soon as we can, just sit tight! All remaining Delta victors, spread it out!" the lieutenant barked. He felt Saburo jerk the machine to the right just a bit before going straight again.

The line of Abrams and Bradley's easily climbed onto and over the road, weaving through the now defunct Leopard 2s. Through his screen the platoon commander spotted more Belkan MBTs in defensive mounds well across the field, maybe a mile away at the least. Further back he could see several M113s with a few Wiesel 1 weapon carriers. He guessed they were packing MILAN anti-tank missiles in case the Leopards were bested.

Kristopher spotted a TOW from one of the M2s as it struck a Belkan to the left. He saw the weapon exploded but the Leopard managed to get off a round before any damage was done. The lieutenant ordered a round onto the enemy armor as the M2 was reported as hit.

"All Charlie and Delta victors, slow it down, I've got a pair of Harriers inbound on that line of infantry! Frontiersman, you are cleared hot!" the Kiowa piped up.

As Jonesy cursed a missed shot, Kristopher noted dark flashes falling on the secondary line. Several of the lighter fighting vehicles disappeared in flames and ripped up bits of earth. The ensuing smoke-dust cloud fell back from its ascent upon the tanks as they closed in at a slower speed now. Kristopher went to thermal and identified what he was determined to make kill number three for the day. The one next to it exploded as the Platoon Sergeant put a second round into it. Suddenly the tank in Delta 3-1's sights began to backpedal away from its parked position. A round landed short of the Osean M1 and the muffled thump of dirt clods were generally ignored by the crew. As it kept its turret on the M1, another TOW beat them to the kill, striking the tanks side as it moved to the left.

Saburo pushed the M1 past the wrecked hulk and towards the remnants of the infantry line. Kristopher identified a Wiesel, and ordered a HEAT (High Explosive, Anti-Tank) put into the gun's chamber. Jonesy sent the round into the front of the smaller AFV. As they drew even closer, the officer spotted moving shapes. He reached up for his hatch's lever

"Gunner, keep on the lookout for any more armored threats, I'll get the troops!" He instructed.

"Roger that, El-Tee!" the corporal replied.

The lieutenant pulled down his goggles over his eyes and pulled back the cocking handle on the heavy machine gun. He traversed it as the smoke cleared, spotting a lone Belkan trooper with a G3 assault rifle in his hands. The Osean was faster.

"Troops in the open! Caliber fifty!" Kristopher announced as he depressed the butterfly trigger.

The "Ma Deuce" made a sound akin to metal being beaten at a high, rhythmical pace. Kristopher gritted his teeth as the front of the man's uniform exploded in crimson. He fell back, throwing his weapon wildly into the air. The lieutenant turned the weapon's barrel back towards the front as more soldiers began to flee their burning APCs and compromised positions in the face of the Oseans' armor. He fired more rounds at one soldier with a Panzerfaust 3 and watched as they pushed a destroyed M113 to the side. Suddenly he heard another explosion, off to his direct left.

"Delta 2-2's hit! Lots of secondaries!"

"Shit! Hinds, Hinds!" someone bellowed immediately after.

Kristopher angrily swung his M2 towards the location of Seth's platoon. So the bastards had finally come to play…He spotted a sinister form as it lumbered away, rotor blades chattering. The lieutenant directed the weapon towards the aircrafts projected path and squeezed off more rounds. The Mi-35 seemed uninterested in the tank at first, but as it showed its full side to the Osean for a brief second, he could see the turret on the chin moving his way. Kristopher dropped down and reached for the hatch as the Yak-B Gatling gun sprayed the top of the tank with rounds.

"Foxtrot 5-1, this is Delta 3-1, we've got multiple Hinds on us, we need support!" He shouted.

"Roger that Delta 3-1, we're getting you some n-shit, they see us, evasive maneuvers!" the pilot replied.

Kristopher pushed up the hatch again and poked his head outside, trying to spot the two Hinds. He saw them as the two machines kept on a route to his right, now completely ignoring the easy prey that were the M1s. He realized they wanted the Kiowa, and the sweet feeling of taking down another aircraft. The lead aircraft's minigun was buzzing again, and the lieutenant managed to glimpse the OH-58 as it maneuvered inside the path of its attackers, coming over Delta 3's tanks fast and low. Matt prepared for another strafing run when an angel's voice called to him.

Except that angel's voice was like a chorus of buzz saws/

The Mi-35's side was racked by sparks mid-turn that quickly marched up to its rotor. The machine made a heavy fall from the sky towards the rear of the advance, planting itself in the ground in a cloud of dust at the rotors met the ground. Its wingman was in the midst of turning to face the incoming OAF when it too fell, almost flipping upside down before it succumbed. Kristopher was relieved to see a pair of dark-green A-10s flash by and back into the blue above as he dared to once again expose his upper body to the open air. He looked forward again and saw that they'd broken through. The 12th Infantry Division was official in Belka.

**_A/N: I felt it proper to add that I opted for a mix of Leopard 2A4s and A3s because of the Belkan financial crisis. I'd assume they'd have some troubles getting there older systems upgraded (hence why I also opt for M113s instead of Marders, alongside the fact they're the canonical Belkan Army APC). I also do not apologize for the wrecking of several Leopard 2s, lol._**


End file.
